


Roses in December

by Pat_Ella



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7609582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pat_Ella/pseuds/Pat_Ella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian struggles to deal with his time from the Underworld. Emma takes a radical step to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Emma thought things would get better. She really did.

She figured now that they’re back in Storybrooke, now that they’re _home_ , they can put the events of the past year behind them. Now that they’re _together_ , they can finally _be_ together.

She knows he’s been struggling. He tries to hide it behind that charming smile, the sarcastic quips. To everyone else, he seems normal, moved on from his time in the Underworld. But she knew him better. She noticed how his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. She noticed how the sass has faded from his trademark rejoinders. She noticed how he sometimes stares at the floor of their shared house and doesn’t look up until she says his name.

“Killian…” she whispers, putting her hand on his.

He jerks lightly, his eyes finally looking away from their uninteresting carpet and meeting hers. He smiles, lacing their fingers together.

“What is it, love?”

“Are you okay?” she asks, knowing what he’ll say.

“Aye. A little tired, but I’m fine.” he tries to convince her with his eyes but fails.

Emma doesn’t push it, doesn’t quite know how to in the first place. She wants him to talk to her, let her know what he’s going through so she can help. But she can’t find the words to say, not the right words anyway.

So she smiles back, gives him a light kiss, hopes he’ll open up to her in time.

—-

Emma wakes to the sound of heavy breathing beside her. She reaches out, just as Killian moves from the bed and walks unsteadily to the bathroom.

She lays there a while, gives him a few minutes to himself before following. She finds him at the sink, having splashed water on his face and now staring at the running water from the faucet. His right hand grips the edge of the sink tightly, his breathing still uneven.

Emma walks over and turns the tap off, wraps her arms around him from behind. He acknowledges her presence by lifting his arm and resting it against her embrace. They don’t say anything, they just hold each other until his heartbeat settles down.

She thinks one of them should cry but neither does.

—-

“Maybe he just needs some time to deal with what happened,” Mary Margaret helpfully suggests. “He’s a survivor.”

“It’s been two months. I’m just worried he’s shutting me out, won’t let me help,” Emma looks angrily at the cup of coffee in her hand like it had offended her. “I’ve been there, it doesn’t work. And I don’t want him going down that road. Not alone.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?” David says from where he was sitting.

Emma shakes her head sadly. “I don’t know what to say. How do you even start a conversation like that?”

“It’s not going to start itself, honey,” Mary Margaret puts her hand on Emma’s arm. “If you want to talk about it, you have to make him. He’s not going to do that himself.”

Emma sighs, knows her mother’s right. She leaves, fully intent on sitting Killian down to talk.

She comes home to find him asleep on the couch, his left arm sans hook dangling from the edge. He looks peaceful in his slumber and Emma couldn’t bring herself to wake him. She vows to talk to him tomorrow.

Whatever courage she’d mustered up though, it left her the next morning.

—-

Emma begins to think maybe time really does help.

As she walks down to the docks, she can already see Killian moving around on the deck of his ship. He doesn’t take it out on the water often, but he likes to work on it, keep it in good condition.

“Hey,” she calls. “Hungry?” she lifts the paper bag she has in her hands.

Killian looks over, grins at the sight of her. “Aye, love. Come up.”

They eat their lunch on the Jolly Roger, conversation easy between them. He’s laughing again and Emma thinks _He’s okay. We’re going to be okay._

She kisses him before she leaves, her arms around his neck. “See you at home?”

“See you at home.” he replies with a smirk.

She walks back into town with a smile on her lips.

—-

Emma cracks her eyes open, awoken by restless movement. Killian turns toward her, and she sits up at the look on his face. He’s still asleep but his furrowed eyebrows suggest it was not a dreamless one.

“Killian,” she tries, gripping his shoulder. She feels how damp his shirt is and realizes he’s sweating.

“Killian,” she says again, louder this time.

He turns his head to the other side, his hand gripping the sheets, his leg jerking. 

Emma sits on her knees, puts both hands on his shoulders, willing him awake.

“ _Killian!_ ” she yells.

His eyes snap open, gasping a lungful of air as if he hasn’t breathed for days. It takes him a few seconds to understand where he is, his eyes blinking furiously in the darkness.

Emma puts her hand on his jaw, urges him to look at her. The tips of her hair brush his cheek as he wraps his hand around her forearm, grips her hard like he doesn’t quite believe she’s there. Their eyes lock and it’s in that moment that he blanches, practically shoves Emma off of him and staggers to the bathroom.

Emma chases after him, gets there just in time to see him retch in the toilet. His white-knuckled hold on the seat keeps him from falling in when he heaves a second time. Emma kneels beside him, rubs her hand along his back as he throws up.

Killian tries to catch his breath, resting his head on his forearm.

“Here,” Emma fills a glass with water and hands it to him, noting the tears in his eyes that won’t fall when he avoids looking at her. “Drink, it’ll help.”

Killian takes the glass with a shaking hand that Emma has to help him bring it to his lips to sip. They put it down on the tiled floor before Emma wraps him in a tight hug. She doesn’t say anything, just lets him bury his head in her hair and cling to her like a child.

They sit like that for a while, not one word spoken between them.

—-

“It’s getting worse,” Emma tells her parents the next day, her voice cracking a little. “I thought he was pulling through, but last night…”

Mary Margaret rushes over to her daughter to envelop her in a soft embrace. She steers her toward the table and sits her down.

“What happened?” David asks, concerned at the dejected look on Emma’s face.

“He had a nightmare,” Emma remembers the terror in Killian’s eyes when she wrestled him from that dream and shivers. “A bad one.”

“What was it about?”

“I…” Emma starts, then frowns when she realizes she doesn’t know what to say next. “I don’t - we didn’t… He didn’t tell me.” she mutters, like it was Killian’s fault that he didn’t say.

They sit quietly for a few moments.

“You were going to talk to him about it weren’t you? I thought you did. You two seemed better.” Mary Margaret says.

“Well we didn’t and we’re not.” Emma snaps, flinching when she hears the frustration in her own voice.

“Emma.” her father chides but Mary Margaret puts her hand up to keep him from saying anything else.

“Talking about it will help, Emma. I promise.” Mary Margaret says softly, putting her hand on Emma’s shoulder.

Emma looks at her hands, tries to understand why she doesn’t _just talk to him_ like everyone keeps saying. Why does she find it so difficult to start that discussion, to just ask him?

She wishes the past year undone. She just wants it to have never happened. She just wants to forget it ever did, wants _him_ to forget most of all.

She closes her hands into fists and makes a decision. She stands abruptly and marches to the door.

“Emma,” her mother calls. “What are you going to do?”

“What needs to be done.” she whispers, her footsteps heavy with intent. 

—-

A very pregnant Belle looks up from her stack of books as Emma walks through the doors of the Library.

“Emma!” Belle greets with a smile, which promptly falls away when she sees the expression on Emma’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I need your help.”

“Of course,” Belle comes around from behind the counter. “What do you need?”

“I need…” Emma hesitates, second-guessing her decision. But she’s here and Belle’s willing to help so she just barrels on. “I need something, anything to make him - help him…forget.”

Belle’s eyebrows draw together at that and Emma sighs.

“Killian,” Emma attempts to explain. “I need him to…” she continues but realization already dawned on Belle’s face.

“Are you sure that’s the solution?” Belle challenges with kindness in her voice.

Emma grits her teeth and clenches her fists. “ _Yes_ ,” she breathes, trying to convince herself.

After all the gaps in their memories, all the curses that bore holes in their minds, this time it’s for the better. She’s _sure_ it will help. Nothing good can come from remembering. Nothing good has.

She looks at Belle with resolve. “Please.” she says.

Belle smiles, puts a hand on her arm. “If you’re sure it’s for the best.”

“I am.”

Belle leads her back to the pawnshop. The bell above the door chimes when they enter.

“I’ve cataloged every single thing in here,” Belle starts as she opens one of the many cabinets. “We’ve known many a memory potion and curse, this is another one.” she holds up a small bottle of clear liquid.

“How does it work?” Emma takes the bottle from her, rolls it over in her palm.

“From what I've read, he simply needs to drink it,” Belle rubs her belly, leans against the counter. “But you have to tell it what to take.”

Emma looks up. “What do you mean _tell it_?”

“Before he drinks it, you have to tell the liquid exactly which memories to take.” Belle shrugs as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“You mean talk to _this_?” Emma holds the vial in her fingers and eyes it suspiciously, suddenly wondering what exactly it was.

“Mm-hmm,” Belle nods. “That’s important. Otherwise, it will not know what to erase and will simply take everything. Oh, and he has to drink all of it, to the last drop”

Emma palms the bottle, the answer to their problems. _This will fix everything_ , she tells herself. “Thank you, Belle.”

Belle walks toward her, takes both her hands in hers. “You have to be sure about this Emma,” the seriousness in her voice breaks Emma’s confidence a little. “You can’t make this decision for him. Make sure this is what he wants before you do it.”

Emma locks her jaw and nods firmly.

“Good luck.” Belle whispers before the bell chimes again as Emma leaves.

—-

The vial sits in her nightstand drawer for two weeks.

Despite considering an alternative, she still ended up here, not knowing how to talk to him, to see what he wanted to do. If Emma was to be honest, she hadn’t planned on even asking him - she was just going to let him drink it and finally go back to how things were. But Belle’s warning gave her pause. She remembers how angry Killian was when Emma made the decision of turning him into a Dark One to save his life. And she did promise him she’ll never try to control him again.

He’ll forget, he’ll never know. But he will be the only one who won’t remember. Everyone else will, and Emma doesn’t know how they will react to what she’s planning to do. She’s almost sure everyone will play along anyway, but she’s not certain that Killian won’t suspect anything just because people seem to be looking at him differently. He’s perceptive like that.

“You alright, love?” Killian pulls her from the debate she’s having with herself.

“You’ve barely touched your dinner.” Henry comments, pointing his fork at her plate.

Emma clears her throat, sits up in her chair. “Yeah. Yes, I’m fine,” she drinks from her glass of wine. “Just thinking.”

“About?” Killian looks at her with his too-blue eyes and Emma has to look away.

“I’d rather have dessert, we have ice cream in the fridge. You guys want some?” Emma gets up and puts her dish in the sink.

It takes a couple of seconds before Killian and Henry move to clean up. They wash the dishes while Emma scoops ice cream into three large bowls.

“Let’s eat this in front of the TV,” Emma declares, gesturing with her head, a bowl in each hand. “Henry, can you take that other one, please?” She’s vaguely aware of the look Henry and Killian share but they don’t comment. Instead, they just follow her to the living room.

Killian’s used to the television now - not that it hadn’t amused Emma the first time she’s brought the thing home. _What the bloody hell is that_ , he’d said keeping a safe distance between him and the big black box. Now he just falls asleep in front of it, using it as a means to drift off into slumber rather than as a form of entertainment.

They settle on a movie and soon enough, Killian’s eyelids flutter closed. Henry falls in a blissful sleep himself on the other couch before the credits started rolling. Emma would get up and usher him to bed, but Killian’s legs were on her lap, and she didn’t want to wake him from this not-too-often reprieve. She brushes the hair that has fallen on his brow then sweeps her fingers over his cheeks. She carefully removes the brace from his left arm and sets it on the coffee table. 

She smiles at her boys, finding solace in this rare moment of contentment. She settles in beside Killian, almost on top of him with her head on his chest and her legs tangled in his. She feels his arm wrap around her before sleep takes her too.

—-

This time it was his voice that woke her. He was saying something, an urgent whisper that she doesn’t quite catch. She's awake in the next second, already bracing her legs on either side of him before taking his face in her hands.

“Killian, wake up.” she begs, frustrated that they’re doing this again.

“Mom?” Henry stirs from his place, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Emma glances at her son but looks back down when a _whimper_ escapes Killian’s throat.

Emma shakes him, not gentle about it at all. “Wake up.” she repeats, desperation in her voice.

“What’s going on?” Henry ambles toward them in the dark.

Killian’s face is in pain, a groan slipping from his lips. He's moving beneath Emma, as if trying to break free from her hold. Emma puts more weight on her hips, keeps them from falling off the sofa.

“Killian please,” Emma cries, her face inches from his. “Wake up!”

She pulls her arm back to slap him awake when an ear-splitting scream echoes around the room, Killian’s back arching from the couch. Emma and Henry flinch hard at the sound.

“ _Killian!_ ” Emma yells over him, slamming both fists against his chest.

He’s pulled from his nightmare mid-scream and he almost chokes on it. He jolts upright, nearly toppling Emma over but she catches him in a tight embrace, steadying them both. A sob bubbles up from his chest while Emma holds him.

“It’s okay, I’m here with you.” she tries to tell him.

The next moment he’s pushing Emma away. Emma almost doesn't let him but she recalls what happened the last time and lets him go. Henry jumps out of the way just as Killian doubles over and empties his stomach on their living room carpet.

It was then that Emma’s face hardens and she exhales loudly. “Stay with him.” she orders Henry. She sprints to their bedroom, yanks open her nightstand drawer and heads to the kitchen. She fills a glass with water, spares a second to look at the small bottle in her hand before dumping all the liquid into the glass.

She sets it on the table, stares at it angrily. “Just- ” Emma stops, her head spinning, the words tripping over each other on her tongue. “Just bring him back,” she holds back the tears that are threatening to fall. “Bring him back to the time before all this pain and misery. All this suffering.”

She waits a moment, expecting something to happen. When nothing did, she huffs furiously and stomps to the living room with the glass in her hand.

Henry is rubbing Killian’s back, who is still doubled-over on the floor. Emma avoids the puddle of sick and kneels next to him.

“I’m sorry, love.” Killian’s voice is hoarse and it breaks Emma’s heart a little.

“Drink this,” she says softly, brushing away the hair plastered to his forehead. She helps Killian drink the water and when he stops halfway, Emma says, “All of it.”

Emma sets the empty glass on the table, makes Killian look at her.

“‘M sorry…” he says again, his words slurring.

Emma shakes her head. “You don’t have to apologize, Killian.”

Killian blinks at her as if trying to get her in focus before his eyelids droop and his shoulders wilt.

“Let’s get you to bed.” Emma offers, putting his arm around her neck and dragging him up. Killian tries to take some of his weight but his knees fail him and he leans heavily against Emma.

“The mess…”

“I got it.” Henry pushes them in the direction of the bedroom, Emma giving him a grateful look over her shoulder.

Killian struggles to put one foot in front of the other, Emma the only thing keeping him up.

“Bloody hell.” she hears him mumble under his breath as she adjusts her hold on him.

“Almost there.” Emma pushes the door open and practically drags him the last few feet to their bed.

He drops heavily on the mattress, his head falling on the pillow with a soft thud. Emma lifts his legs up and tries to cover him with a blanket. Killian grabs her wrist, looks at her hard.

“Swan,” he manages, fighting the sleep taking over him. “What did you do?”

How he even knows to ask that question, Emma doesn’t bother anymore. “Just rest.” she urges and pushes him into the bed.

His eyes finally close. Emma lets out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s been holding. She looks at him a minute more before planting a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Everything’s going to be okay now.”

—- 

The smell of grilled cheese sandwiches permeates through the house as Mary Margaret putters around in Emma’s kitchen.

“Where’s Henry?” David pulls out a chair and sets a cup of hot cocoa in front of his daughter.

“He’s in there with Killian,” Emma replies before taking a small sip of her beverage. “I told him to go to Regina’s while we…” she gestures with her hands. “…figure things out. But he doesn’t want to, tells me he wants to help.”

“Well, we’re here to help too,” Mary Margaret brings their breakfast plates over and takes a seat beside David. “So, tell us what happened.” she prompts.

Emma takes a deep breath. She’s spent the last couple of hours since giving them a call formulating what to say in her head, how to say it. Her parents have been patient with her, offered to make them all breakfast while she organized her frazzled mind.

“I made him forget.” Well, there you go. Two hours and all she has to show for it are four words.

Mary Margaret and David look at each other.

“Okay,” David leans forward in his seat. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Belle helped me,” Emma pauses then sighs. She’s doing the explanation backwards. She takes another sip of her cocoa and rearranges her thoughts. “A couple of weeks ago, I asked Belle for a way to help Killian. She gave me this potion, one that erases memories. I was going to discuss it with him, see if that’s what he wanted to do but last night happened and I just couldn’t- I won’t just sit back and watch this happen to him. I had to do _something_.”

“So you took away his memories?” Mary Margaret asks softly. Emma did not miss the hint of disappointment in her voice.

“I know,” Emma raises her head, looks directly at her mother. “I know the last time I did this, it did not end well. But this is different. I’m helping him.”

“You thought you were helping him the last time.” David reasons and Emma glares at him for saying it out loud. The nagging voice in her head keeps arguing that point too.

“It might do him some good for all we know,” Mary Margaret steals Emma’s attention away from David. “What won’t he remember, specifically? How far back did he forget?”

Emma appreciates the support coming from her mother, gives her a small smile. “Before all this,” Emma lifts a hand in the air. “Before the Underworld, before the Dark One curse.”

“So the last thing he remembers is- ”

“ _Mom!_ ” Henry yells from the bedroom.

Emma jumps out of her seat and is beside her son within two seconds. “Is he okay?” she breathes.

Henry just motions to the other side of the room where a wide-eyed, panic-stricken Killian is standing - or trying to stand at least with his right hand leaning heavily against the nightstand.

“Killian- ” Emma moves toward him but Henry grabs her arm at the same time Killian hisses “ _Don’t!_ ”

Emma looks at her son, question in her eyes.

“Something’s wrong.” is all he says.

Emma stands frozen in place, attempts to wrap her head around the situation.

Killian’s heavy breathing is the only sound in the room. His eyes are still unfocused, keeps flitting around before settling on the space where his left hand used to be. He struggles for words before finally blurting out, voice shaking, “Where am I? What did you do to me?”

Emma takes another tentative step but backtracks when Killian presses himself harder against the wall. “You’re home,” she answers from where she's standing. “You’re safe.”

Killian shakes his head hard, making him wobble on his feet. It takes everything in Emma not to run over and steady him.

“No- this isn’t- ” he shakes his head again trying to lift the fog clouding his mind. “This can’t- I’m not- ” then a sudden moment of clarity makes him lift his head and lock eyes with her.

His next words sends chills down Emma’s spine.

“Where’s my brother?”


	2. Chapter 2

No one speaks for a full minute.

Not even when Killian’s legs finally give out and he crumples to the floor. Emma just runs over to him, stops short of touching him, not sure if he’ll let her, doesn’t want to find out. He doesn’t have the energy to argue, just leans his head against the wall. Another minute passes, then he repeats his question that is still ringing in Emma’s ears. “Where’s my brother?”

Emma can’t even open her mouth to speak. The words won’t come.

“Killian?” Mary Margaret says tentatively from behind Emma. Killian glances at her, fighting hard to keep his eyes open. “We’re not going to hurt you. We’re here to help.” she’s beside Emma now, sitting on her knees.

“Where’s my brother?” he asks again, exhaustion in his voice.

“Why don’t you come back to bed. Get some rest.” Mary Margaret tries.

“Not until you tell me where the bloody hell my brother is.” Killian tries to get up, Emma rises with him.

“He’s not here.” comes David’s attempt to sidestep the question. He doesn’t come closer, stays where he is just by the door.

“That’s not an answer.” Killian says through gritted teeth, his knees starting to buckle again under him.

“Please,” Emma finally whispers. “Lie back down.”

Killian looks at Emma without a hint of recognition and it surprises her how much that hurts. “Just tell me.” he begs.

Emma closes her eyes and takes a breath. When she opens them again, Killian’s deep blue eyes are still staring at her and Emma tries not to cry at how _wrong_ it felt. “I’m sorry,” she starts. “He…” she trails off as Killian slides back down to the floor. It feels like he already knew the answer, just wanted someone, anyone to say it out loud. Even though Emma never really got around to that.

He hangs his head low, hides his face from everyone. Every muscle in Emma’s body wants to reach out and hold him. Her arms get halfway there before she realizes and stops herself from making things worse. She barely registers David leading Henry out of the room. Mary Margaret follows a few seconds later.

“I’m sorry,” she utters softly. “For everything.”

Emma gets up and leaves, feeling her heart break as she does. She hears a painful sob as she closes the door behind her.

—-

Regina comes over later in the day after Mary Margaret calls her.

“Alright, I’m here,” she announces as she puts her coat on the rack by the front door. “Whose memory was wiped this time? Who accidentally got sucked into a portal?”

Emma knows she was being sarcastic, not knowing how on point half her joke had been. It doesn’t stop her from welcoming Regina with a glare.

Regina puts her hands up in defense. “Okay, not funny? I gather one of those things actually happened. And looking at you right now,” she says, pointing at Emma. “I’m guessing this has something to do with Hook. Again.” she adds the last part as an afterthought.

They catch her up on the events from last night and this morning. By the time they were done, Regina had crossed her arms over her chest, not even trying to hide the disbelief in her face.

“What made you think this was a good idea?” she throws at Emma. “That pregnant librarian is hormonal, why come to her with this?”

“I was desperate.” Emma retorts.

“Only because you’ve tried everything else, right?” Regina challenges. “Only because talking about it,” she emphasizes the last three words,  “Did nothing to help, correct?”

Emma looks away at that.

Regina sighs. “This literally _just_ happened. It’s like I’m stuck in some godforsaken, twisted version of Groundhog Day.”

“Arguing about it is not going to help anyone now,” Mary Margaret intervenes. “Let’s just figure out how to fix this, shall we?”

“Isn’t this as simple as a True Love’s Kiss?”

They all turn to look at David. Out of all the people in the room, Emma expected that the least from her father.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s not exactly in a kissing mood at the moment.” Emma says.

“He doesn’t have to be awake for it. That’s how I did it.”

Mary Margaret looks incredulously at her husband. David raises his shoulders, _What did I say?_ all over his body language.

Regina ignores them and sits next to Emma. “I don’t think that will work.”

Whatever glimmer of hope Emma had, died with that statement. “Why not?” she asks quickly.

“Because, it’s not True Love.” 

Emma pushes her chair back, fully prepared to remind Regina of the test she and Killian encountered in the Underworld. The test they _passed_.

“I mean,” Regina backpedals. “It’s not True Love for him.” 

Not better. 

“Not this version of him.”

 _Oh_.

“From what I understand, he thought his brother was still alive. That means he thinks it’s still the 18th century or whatever century he was born in. He hasn’t met any of us, hasn’t met you, Emma. Technically, he hasn’t even lost his hand yet - you should be prepared to explain that by the way. He’s not Hook, not right now. And,” Regina takes care in adding, “He’s doesn't know yet how in love he is with you.”

Emma mulls over that. That man in their bedroom is Killian Jones, but not _her_ Killian Jones. She clenches her fists and fights back the fresh wave of tears.

“Regina’s right,” David confirms. “I remember now, it’s happened before. With me and your mother,” he waves his hand in the air at Regina’s intrigued look. “A long time ago.”

“How did this happen anyway? Why did he lose that much?” Mary Margaret muses out loud.

Emma shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know…”

“What did you do exactly?” Regina turns to Emma.

“I put the thing in his water, made him drink it, that’s it.” Emma replies, frustrated.

“Didn't you recite a spell, an incantation?” Henry finally speaks up from his place on the kitchen island. “I heard you from the living room.”

Emma’s face dawns with recollection. She searches her mind for the exact words she said at that moment. “I said… I said bring him back to a time before the pain and misery.”

“ _That’s_ what you said?” Regina raises her eyebrows. “You couldn’t have been more vague about it?”

Emma glares at her again, not amused by her sarcasm at all.

“Then those words mean differently for Hook than it does for you, Emma.” Mary Margaret says, playing referee again.

Emma’s confusion must have been evident on her face because Regina sighs loudly, like she’s very close to losing her patience.

“Clearly you people still believe the world revolves around you,” Regina looks at them with slight disapproval. “His life didn’t start when he met you, Emma. He had lived centuries before he even laid eyes on you. He’d endured years of misery by the time he crossed paths with any of us. Even _I_ know the turning point in his life - that moment when he thought the rest of the world decided to turn its back on him...”

“His brother’s death.” Emma finishes for her.

Regina leans back in her chair, satisfied that Emma’s arrived at the same conclusion. “It did what you said - it brought Hook back to a time before his pain and misery. Before his brother died.”

It hadn't even occurred to Emma that what she said could mean anything else. She suddenly feels small with the realization that her time with Killian is only a brief moment in his long, long life.

“Okay, we get that now. We know why he doesn’t remember us,” _doesn’t remember me_ , Emma thinks but doesn’t say. “We still don’t know how to break it. If True Love’s Kiss won’t work, what the hell will?”

“Mom didn’t say True Love’s Kiss wouldn’t work- ” Henry starts.

“That’s _exactly_ what she said, kid.”

“She said,” Henry speaks over Emma. “It won’t work _now_. True Love’s Kiss could still work, just not like this, not if he doesn’t remember.”

“ _But we don’t know how to make him remember._ ” Emma feels like they’re going around in circles and she doesn’t have time for this. She needs a solution now.

Henry slides off the kitchen island, walks right up to Emma. “He doesn’t need to remember _how_ you fell in love. He just needs to know that he _did_ and still does,” Henry says, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “You can make him fall in love with you again.”

Regina motions toward Henry in a that-makes-sense kind of way.

Emma looks at her son, then Regina, then her parents. No one offers a rebuttal, they all just give her an expectant look back.

Emma inhales deeply. “I guess I have some courting to do.”

—-

Emma knocks gently on the door before opening it. She finds Killian hasn’t moved from where they’ve left him and it breaks her heart a little more. She closes the door softly then moves toward him, a cup of tea in her hand. She’s never met the Killian Jones that disapproved of rum, so she’s taking a stab in the dark with that choice of beverage.

She sits a couple of feet in from him, folds her legs under her. She wordlessly sets the mug down between them and waits.

Just when Emma thinks Killian will let the tea go cold on their bedroom floor, he reaches for it with both arms, only remembering he has just the one hand when he sees the other one isn’t there. That moment squeezes the insides of her chest again.

She let’s him sip the tea in silence, ignoring the fact that he just accepted a drink from someone he doesn’t know ( _a stranger_ , her mind supplies helpfully), after learning his brother had died, and that he’s missing an appendage.

“You’ve sat there a while,” Emma finally says. “Don’t you want to get some rest?” she gestures toward the bed.

“How did he die?” he replies instead, his mouth hidden behind the cup in his hands.

Emma doesn't know a lot about the circumstances of Liam's death. Killian had only told her about the important parts, that particular moment in his life not something he likes to talk about extensively.

She tries to make eye contact with him, but he doesn’t lift his head. “He was poisoned,” Emma leaves out the part where his brother sort of did it to himself. “You tried to save him, but there was nothing you could do.”

She lets Killian absorb the information, waits for him to say something.

“And this?” he lifts his left arm, still not looking at Emma.

“It was taken from you by someone...evil,” Emma tries to keep it simple, from overwhelming him with revelations like the Dark One. “There was bad blood between the two of you.”

She waits again to see if he’s satisfied with what she’s said. He finishes the tea then puts the empty mug on the floor beside him.

“And you,” he looks directly at her this time. Her breath catches as their eyes lock, still no trace of recognition in those seas of blue. It still stings. “Who are you to me?”

The last two words of his question threw her, Emma wasn’t expecting that. “I…” she pauses, doesn’t have an answer ready. She eventually settles on, “We’re family.”

Killian’s eyebrows furrow, not quite understanding. But he doesn’t press further, just looks at Emma long and hard, like he’s trying to decide if he believes her or not. It takes all of Emma’s willpower not to look away. She wants to tell him with her eyes that she speaks the truth, and that he can trust her.

He drops his gaze after a while, shifting in his seat on the floor. “Why don’t I remember any of this?”

That’s the question Emma was waiting for. “It’s my fault,” she answers without hesitation. He lifts his eyes to hers again. “I did this to you. I was being selfish and I didn’t think- I didn’t stop to think about you, about what you wanted.” It's her turn to break eye contact. “I’m sorry.”

“Something happened then,” Killian says. “Something that made you do what you did.”

 _A lot has happened, to you, to me. To us,_ she thinks. "Yes," is her reply. "I will fix this." she promises.

Killian just nods then sighs. Emma wonders why he’s not asking more questions, why he’s not angry. Why he’s not freaking out about the ridiculous situation he found himself in. He’s not even in the same century anymore, he shouldn’t be this calm. Then she remembers New York and how Killian had convinced her to drink that potion. She had a gut feeling something wasn't right, and having him there reinforce that idea made it easier to believe. She knew back then had it been anyone else, she would probably be married to a flying monkey right now. She thinks maybe, just maybe, he has that same intuitive feeling in his bones.

“I think I will take that offer now, if it still stands.” he motions to the bed.

“Of course.” Emma smiles softly at him. She thinks something flashed in his eyes at that moment, but he jerked his head away too fast to be sure.

Killian gets up shakily, uses the wall as leverage. Emma unfolds her legs, stands, and steps toward him, putting one hand on his elbow, the other on his back. She lifts her head to find he’s staring at her and she realizes this is the closest they’ve been since she put him to bed last night. Their faces are inches from each other that she can feel his breath on her lips. _Is he blushing?_ she wonders before Killian suddenly winces so hard he backs into the nightstand drawer, out of Emma’s hold, nearly knocking the lamp over. He puts his right hand on the surface, more to steady himself than the furniture.

“Are you alright?” Emma attempts to help again but Killian puts his handless arm up. He misses the look of hurt on Emma’s face.

“I can manage.” Killian grits out. He takes the few steps to the bed and sits heavily on the mattress.

“Okay,” Emma masks the ache she’s feeling. She tucks her hair behind her ears to give her hands something to do. “If you need anything, I’ll be outside.” she turns and heads for the door.

“Wait,” Killian calls just as she crosses the threshold. “What’s your name?”

Emma looks back at him, tries to smile. “Emma, Emma Swan.”

The look on his face doesn't change. Instead, he just bows his head at her. “Thank you.”

She keeps the frown from her face when he doesn’t say her name. “You’re welcome.” she says then pulls the door closed.

Emma stands outside their bedroom door, stares at the doorknob in her hand. She stays like that until her vision blurs, until a strangled sound breaks free from her throat. She realizes she’s crying and that she can’t stop. She puts a hand over her mouth as a swell of emotions hits her hard, knocks her to the floor.

A pair of arms wrap around her, squeezing her tight. “Come on, Mom. You need some rest too.” Henry mutters gently, pulling Emma to her feet. 

Emma lets her son guide her to his room, grateful for his company. He tucks her into bed and embraces her while she weeps. When sleep finally finds her that night, it is a welcome reprieve. 

—-

Emma takes a deep breath before tapping her knuckles against the door. She hears a muffled "Come in," prompting her to crack the door open.

“Hi,” she greets. She finds Killian standing by the bed, his back to her. “Wanted to check if you needed anything.”

Henry had already given him a brief orientation on the shower, how it works, where his clothes were. It seems Killian found his way around without too much trouble - something she finds oddly unsettling but puts it aside for the meantime. He turns to face her and that’s when she sees his brace in his hand.

“It’s a little hazardous isn’t it?” he says, eyeing the hook doubtfully.

She chuckles lightly and approaches him. “It takes a little getting used to, yes.”

She takes the brace from him, asks him with her eyes. He offers his left arm wordlessly and Emma fastens the brace like she’s done a dozen times before. As soon as she’s done, Killian pulls his arm away, takes two full steps back. She notices his right hand is clenched into a fist.

“You’ve done that before. More than once, it appears.” he doesn’t look at her when he says that.

Emma doesn’t answer, it wasn’t a question. Her eyes drop to his chest where she sees the familiar charms hanging around his neck. She stares at it for too long because Killian wraps his fingers around it and begins to pull it over his head.

"Forgive me, I hadn't realized I put it on."

"Keep it on." Emma says hastily, lifting her hand to stop him but keeps her distance.

Killian gives her a puzzled look before slowly putting his hand down.

The silence stretches between them.

“I live here then? With you?” he asks finally, looking at Emma.

“You don’t have to stay. We can get you a place- ”

“It’s quite alright,” Killian interjects. “It might even help, staying here.”

Emma doesn’t argue, relieved that the idea came from him. She just nods her assent as another hush falls over them.

“May I ask something of you?” he scratches the back of his head.

 _Anything_. She nods again.

“Can you take me to him?”

Emma’s eyebrows draw together, not sure what he means.

“My brother,” he clarifies. “I wanted to…” he drops his eyes again.

“Alright,” Emma answers quickly. There’s no way she’s going to tell him no. “It’s not a problem.” Except it is.

The corners of Killian’s mouth turn up. “Thank you, milady.”

She almost laughs at that. “Emma. Call me Emma.”

He looks a little scandalized, saying, “It’s not…proper for- ”

“Please,” Emma cuts him off. “I insist. I’d be more offended if you don’t address me by my actual name.”

He opens his mouth then closes it again. He still looks a little uncertain but relents anyway. “As you wish.”

Emma tries to ignore the pit in her stomach when he says those words. “Come on. I’ll take you to your brother.”

—-

Emma can only really bring him to one place. Her feet are heavy as they trudge up the grass, the fallen leaves crunching beneath their boots. She stops, waves her hand discreetly before Killian catches up to her. They stand next to each other for a while, neither one moving. It’s not lost on Emma that the last time she was here, on this very spot, she was telling him how much she misses him.

Now here she is again, the same words sitting on her tongue. But she doesn’t say them out loud.

Emma glances at the headstone, the one that bore a different name mere moments ago, but now reads _Liam Jones_. If it helps Killian get some closure, Emma would help give him at least that.

“I’ll give you some privacy.” she leaves quietly, only looking back once to see Killian kneel on the ground. She swallows the lump in her throat then wraps her arms around herself. It does very little to combat the chill that has settled around her.

—-

Emma pushes herself from the tree she propped herself against when she sees Killian make his way to her. He looks sad but untroubled, like he got what he came for. She’s still a little perplexed by how calm he is, how he’s not overwhelmed by everything that’s happened. She doesn’t bring it up though, decides it’s his serenity that’s keeping her together.

They leave the cemetery on foot, Killian keeping a courteous distance between them.

“He’s in a better place now.” she says, feeling obliged to fill the silence they once again found themselves in.

“I don’t believe that.” he replies, watching his boots on the pavement.

Emma stops and looks at him, surprised by his response. “You don’t believe in life after death?”

Killian turns to her, shakes his head, “I believe in the Afterlife, I simply don’t believe it’s a better place.”

“Why not?” Emma asks, starts to walk again.

Killian follows her, puts his arms behind his back, “Because I’m not there with him.”

Emma glances at him again, unsure of what to make of that answer.

“If I accept that it is a better place, then I diminish the value of the time he had with me,” he explains. “We were brothers, family. We were all each other had for most our lives. I refuse to believe he’s happier without me.” Killian isn’t looking at her, just stares straight ahead.

“Not happier, just…” Emma searches for the right word, couldn’t. “… _better._ ” Like the emphasis changes what it means.

“It still implies that his time with the living was somehow not good enough,” he looks up to the sky, “That there’s more. And that it was not available to him here.”

“He’s free from suffering though. Isn’t that better?”

Killian looks at her now, with what Emma can only describe as fondness. “I suppose it’s how you measure the quality of your life then. If you think the nature of the experience is of more significance than the company during such experiences, then you are right, it is better.”

They walk quietly the rest of the way. Emma doesn’t really know what to say after that. Somehow, even without a complete understanding of the current situation, Killian still manages to make Emma realize what she really wants, gives her something to hold onto throughout this entire ordeal.

Emma will do whatever it takes to fix this for she now knows with absolute certainty that the best version of her life is not the one without pain, it’s the one with him - all of him - in it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who have taken the time to read this! Your comments and kudos are much appreciated!
> 
> PS. Robin is alive in this - I was not a fan of his exit.

Emma closes her eyes in an effort to fall asleep. She listens to Henry’s steady breathing next to her and tries to imitate it, hopeful it will help her get some rest.

It doesn’t.

She opens her eyes again, sighs loudly at the ceiling. She wraps the covers around herself more tightly, curling into a ball. The coldness persists, Emma considering the possibility that it might not be coming from outside. She sits up and brings her knees to her chest, rests her forehead against them. She’s exhausted, physically and emotionally drained, but her body won’t shut down. She throws her head back but doesn’t let out the scream that’s been idling in her throat for the last couple of days.

Emma swallows hard and inhales deeply. She’s not going to get any sleep tonight.

She slowly climbs out of bed, careful not to wake her son. She puts on her robe and quietly exits the room, pads to the kitchen on her bare feet.

She stills mid-step when she finds Killian sitting on the kitchen counter across the room. He lifts his head and looks at her, half his face hidden in the shadows of the early morning darkness. It does nothing to dull the blues of his eyes.

“Can’t sleep?” Emma asks, leans against the counter on the other side. She crosses her arms, almost hugging herself.

Killian just shakes his head, his right hand gripping the edge of the surface. He’s not wearing his brace, his left arm simply resting against his knee.

“I was going to make myself some tea,” Emma says as she moves to fill the kettle with water. “Do you want some?”

“I would like that, thank you.” Killian replies, sliding off the counter. He grabs two cups from the cupboard behind him - Henry was thorough with his orientation - and sets them down on the kitchen island.

They resume their former positions while waiting for the water to boil. For a while there is no other sound in the room until, “Can I ask you something?”

Killian’s head snaps up at that. “You’ve indulged me thus far, it’s only fair I do the same.”

Emma looks at him carefully. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

He tilts his head a fraction, almost as if he wasn’t expecting that question. He wrinkles his eyebrows, seemingly trying to sort through his mess of a memory. “My brother had been summoned by our king. I was on our ship, waiting for him to get back. Then I decided to take a quick rest. When I woke up, well…” he trails off, looks at his toes.

 _He was dead_. Emma ducks her head too, allows her hair to fall in front of her face.

The sharp whistle from the kettle shatters the silence that follows, Emma flinching hard at the sudden, high-pitched sound. She sees from the corner of her eye that Killian had been startled by it too. She shuts the stove off then turns to fill their cups, Killian having already put tea bags in them. They each take one and settle back to the same places.

Emma holds the mug with both hands, grateful for the warmth now seeping into her fingers. The same feeling warms her chest when she takes a sip. She looks at Killian across from her, literally an island between them.

“I’m sorry about your brother.” she says again, apologizing for much, much more.

Killian doesn't offer a response, not that Emma was looking for one. Emma stares at her tea, watches as the liquid slowly turns darker.

"Do you think I'll get them back?" Killian wonders out loud. "My memories." he adds when Emma stops halfway through bringing the cup to her lips.

Emma lowers her arms. "I'll make sure of it." If it's the last thing she does.

"Do you want me to?" he whispers, his voice so low that Emma has to lean forward to hear him.

There's no resentment in his voice, only sincerity. Emma's heart swells at the realization that he's asking _for her_. He's asking her what she wants. Even after everything, and knowing what he knows, he still worries about what she needs. If only she did the same for him before all this happened.

"More than anything."

Killian fixes his gaze on her, as if daring her to look away. She’s kind of proud of how she doesn’t break eye contact then.

The first rays of sunlight filter into the kitchen, casting a dull glow across the room. Killian tilts his head toward the window and closes his eyes, like he's bathing in the warmth the sunrise has brought.

Emma moves forward and rests her elbows on the kitchen island, her cup of tea still enveloped in both hands. She rubs her thumbs along the rim as she ponders on that last exchange. Because here they are again - Killian asking her what she wants to do, Emma already trying to fix the situation, already looking for ways to put things back the way they were.

But she never really asked him if that’s what he wanted.

She bites her bottom lip, some serious deliberation going on in her head on whether or not it’s a good idea to ask her next question. She flicks her eyes toward him, just blurts it out before she changes her mind again.

“Do _you_ want to?”

Killian opens his eyes, turns his head to look at her. He pushes off the counter and mirrors Emma’s position.

Emma feels genuine dread settle in her stomach. She's not sure she wants to hear his answer but she swears to find a way to be okay with it, whatever it is.

“If it includes you, yes.” he says simply, like his words didn’t push all the air out of Emma’s lungs. Like it didn’t make her heart hammer against her ribs, send blood rushing to her ears that it almost deafens her. Killian straightens his back, the look on his face showing his own mild surprise at his straightforward answer.

Emma swallows the lump in her throat and wills her heartbeat to slow down, standing upright herself. “It’s not the most cheerful of stories.” she warns.

“I’ve assumed as much,” Killian replies. “But there must also be some moments of bliss in the time that I’ve lost.” he attempts a reassuring smile.

Emma is reminded of the words he said in New York - _Perhaps there’s a man that you love in the life that you’ve lost._ She bites her tongue to keep herself from saying something similar to him.

Instead, she returns the smile as sunlight fills the room completely.

—-

They arrive at Granny’s Diner a little before lunch. Killian pauses by the fence, looks at the ground around him then at the quaint little structure in front of them.

Emma feels a little hope flutter in her chest. “Do you recognize it?”

“I- ” Killian frowns. “No, I’m afraid I do not.” he scratches behind his ear distractedly.

“That’s okay,” her shoulders drop but she forces a smile. “Let’s go, the others are inside.” she beckons him.

Emma steps in front of the door, looks back to make sure Killian’s followed her.

“I’m coming, Emma.” he raises an eyebrow when he says her name.

Emma’s ears turn pink at that so she whips around quickly in an effort to hide it, only to run into a leaving customer. “Sorry,” she mutters, lets the man pass then backs right into Killian’s chest. “Sorry.” she says again as he catches her arm to keep her from tripping over her own feet.

Their eyes lock for just a second.

Killian steadies her, then releases his grip on her elbow. He grits his teeth before asking her if she was alright.

“I’m fine.” Emma confirms, not exactly sure if the same applies to him.

“Well then,” Regina’s voice suddenly interrupts. “If you’re done with your little moment over here, some of us are hungry but the _other_ some of us refuse to let anyone else eat until you join us. So please, won’t you join us.” Regina gestures toward their table in the corner of the diner, where Robin, David and Mary Margaret are waving them over.

They take their seats after which Regina immediately places their orders - everyone’s orders.

“This is Regina,” Emma jerks her thumb in Regina’s direction. “Robin,” Robin shakes Killian's hand firmly, clearly having already been briefed by Regina. “And David and Mary Margaret. You've met them.”

He nods. “I remember.”

Emma reminds herself to recalibrate her definition of the word _remember_ , and not to get too excited whenever Killian uses the term.

“So, you’re feeling better?” Mary Margaret asks him with a smile.

Killian looks at Emma, as if waiting for her to tell him what to say. When she doesn’t, Killian just says, “Aye, madam, feeling better indeed.”

“‘Madam?’” David repeats, eyebrows raised.

“I’ve told him,” Emma starts, putting her hand on Killian’s, “That he doesn’t need to do that.” she reluctantly pulls her hand away when she feels his stiffen in her hold.

“Yes, it’s the 21st century, no need for such archaic language.” Regina comments, craning her neck to check if their food is coming.

“Regina...” Robin chides. Regina just rolls her eyes.

“21st century?” Killian’s eyes widen as he leans forward in his seat. “This is the 21st century?”

In hindsight, that probably should have been the first piece of information Emma shared with him. He’s obviously in the wrong time, that much is evident from literally everything he’s seen so far. But now, knowing exactly how far he is from the time he’s known, Emma is sure his mind is racing.

“Huh.” is all he says though, which confuses Emma even more.

“It’s a lot of time to lose, yes,” Mary Margaret says, placing a hand on his arm. “But we’ll get all of it back.”

Killian gives her a small smile. “I believe that. It’s just a little difficult to imagine I had all those years especially considering I already have twenty-four.”

Regina spits up the water she was drinking, covers her mouth while she composes herself. “You’re _twenty-four_?”

Killian looks at the group of faces staring back at him. “I believe so?”

Regina laughs loudly at that, not even bothering to hide her amusement. “He’s the youngest one here! Who would have thought?” 

That seems to have broken the ice as the rest of their lunch went by with little awkwardness. Emma sincerely appreciates the effort her parents and friends have taken to help Killian in his re-assimilation. But something doesn’t quite feel right and Emma needs a second opinion on whether or not it’s all in her head.

So when they’ve finished eating, Emma excuses herself and Regina under the guise of taking some food to go for Henry. They head to the counter, a good distance away from their table.

“He’s acting…weird.” Emma dives right into it.

“You mean for a guy who just lost close to three hundred years of memories? I actually think he’s doing well.” Regina orders some grilled cheese sandwiches to go.

“That’s just it - he’s doing _too_ well,” Emma turns her head to look at Killian. “Shouldn’t he be, I don’t know, less okay with what’s going on? Isn’t he supposed to be freaking out and not having pleasant conversation with my parents?”

“I thought he already did the freaking out part.” Regina leans her elbow against the surface.

“For two minutes! Since then he’s been all open and understanding and it’s freaking _me_ out.”

“Are you sure that’s what’s bothering you about this whole thing?” Regina asks, tilting her head to one side.

“What do you mean?” Emma is a little thrown by the question.

“I mean,” Regina’s voice changes to a more serious tone. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how he’s uncomfortable around you. Like, physically uncomfortable.”

Emma opens her mouth but doesn’t say anything.

Regina assumes it’s her turn to speak again. “Out there by the door, then again when you tried to hold his hand, it’s like he can’t stand you touching him. Meanwhile your mother over there can pat him on the arm, Robin can shake his hand, and he doesn’t have a problem with that? That’s what’s strange if you ask me.”

Emma’s eyes sting at Regina’s observations. So it’s not all in her head.

“He gravitates toward you though, that much is obvious," Regina offers as a consolation. "Does it happen all the time? When you try to touch him?”

Emma nods her head slowly, thinking back to that first time when he collided with the nightstand in his rush to get away from her.

“Hmm,” Regina muses, biting her bottom lip. “This might be a side effect of the potion.”

“Side effect?”

“Yes, Emma, these things tend to have a side effect if you bother to read the fine print it comes with. All magic comes with a price, you know that,” She sighs, says more gently, “It looks more likely that his memories are repressed - it’s not gone, just stuffed in the deepest parts of his mind. So it can very well resurface given the right trigger.”

“Yeah, but that’s what we want, right?” Emma says, actually seeing this as a good thing.

“It’s not what the magic wants. Its job is to keep those memories locked away, no matter what. So anything that can spark a memory, it clamps down on.” Regina suggests. “And what better trigger is there than the woman he loves? That might be why he’s fighting you. His mind thinks it’s protecting itself. But the heart wants...well you know how the saying goes.”

Emma looks back at Killian again, the pieces starting to fit in her head. “That’s why he’s so indifferent too. He’s driven by his emotions and having too much of it - any kind of it…”

“Can break the damn wall, yes.” Regina finishes for her.

“Does this mean we don’t even need True Love’s Kiss to break it? It can come back on its own?” Emma doesn’t hide the hope in her voice.

“We don’t know how powerful this magic is yet. Until we do, we need to assume only the Kiss can defeat it. We don’t even know how far the magic will go to protect his mind, we might make things worse.”

“But how am I supposed to get him to fall in love with me if I can’t even touch him?” Emma raises her voice then, which prompts the rest of their party to get up and approach them.

“Everything okay?” David asks, puts his hand on Emma’s back.

At the same time, Granny hands Regina a paper bag. Regina passes it to Emma. “For Henry.” she says.

Emma takes the bag, gives Regina a grateful look. “Yeah, Dad, we’re okay.”

“Good,” David gives Emma a one-armed hug, kisses her temple. “We need to get going. We left Neal with Mother Superior and this one here,” he puts his coat on Mary Margaret.  “Is worried he’ll start thinking she’s his mother.”

“It’s a valid concern,” Mary Margaret retorts, playfully pushing her husband away. She gives her daughter a hug. “See you soon, Emma.”

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Emma pulls her mother away from the group. “Can you hold onto this for me?” Emma slips her a ring on a chain.

Mary Margaret looks at her in surprise. “Emma…”

“Please. Just until we fix this. I don’t know how he’ll react if he sees that on me.”

“Okay, honey.” Mary Margaret closes her fingers around the necklace and puts her hands in her coat. She leaves with David after giving Killian a hug too (It caught him off guard but he returned it anyway.)

Regina puts on her coat as well, makes to leave. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she tells Emma. “Or you know, more stupid.” she corrects herself then departs with Robin.

Emma huffs a breath and hangs her head.

“Did I hear you call him ‘dad,’ David?” Killian says from behind her.

“Uhh- ” Emma hangs on a decent answer.

“I don’t understand how you all are related to each other.”

“It’s really complicated.” Emma offers instead.

This Killian, as usual, takes it as an appropriate explanation. “If you say so.”

He holds the door open for her when they leave. They walk beside each other on the way home but to Emma, it feels like they are oceans apart.

—-

Emma decides to take Killian to the docks. She finds it might help re-uniting him with his ‘very high second priority’ (his words, when Emma had jokingly challenged him to choose. _Don't be jealous of my mistress, Swan. She's only a very high second priority to you.)_

His steps quicken once the ship comes into view, his excitement showing at finally seeing something familiar, something he actually remembers. He marvels at the massive vessel, eyes wide and mouth agape as his footsteps come to a halt.

“The Jewel of the Realm.” he whispers with wonder.

“She’s called The Jolly Roger now.”

Killian whips his head at her. “The what?”

“You renamed it after your brother passed. The Jewel of the Realm is not exactly an appropriate name for a pirate ship.” Emma couldn’t help but smile at the incredulous look forming on his face.

“ _A pirate ship?_ ” He turns to look at it again like it could disappear any second. “May I?” he asks her, gesturing toward the ship.

“You don’t need to ask for my permission, Killian. You’re the _captain_.” Emma chuckles.

“Right.” he breathes, disbelief in his voice.

Killian boards the ship then turns around as soon as he steps foot on the deck to reach his hand out to Emma. She hesitates, very much aware of the effect she has on him. But he leans forward, urging her to take his hand, so she does.

Emma feels him pull her toward his chest, his grip tight around her wrist. She walks the last few steps but he doesn’t move with her. He stays where he stands, keeps pulling until the toes of their boots bump, Emma getting startled at how close they suddenly are.

She looks up at him, finds him staring directly at her and Emma’s breath catches in her throat. The seconds stretch out as she battles her indecision, can see Killian is waging a similar war in his head.

It would be so easy. So easy to go up on her toes and close the distance between their lips. So easy to wrap her fingers around the charms on his necklace and tug him down. So easy to _just kiss him already_.

Except she knows it won’t work, not right now. He’s not in that place yet and the last thing Emma should be doing is forcing it. It takes every bit of restraint she has in her bones to stay absolutely still and wait for him to move.

When he does, it’s to squeeze his eyes shut and turn his head away. Emma pries her arm from his hold, takes a few steps away.

“Are you alright?” she tries to meet his eyes.

Killian digs the heel of his palm into his eyes, mumbles, “Aye, just…a little headache.”

“That happens a lot doesn’t it? Around me.” There. She’s said it.

He looks at her, fails to hide the guilt in his eyes. “It’s not you, Emma. I think I just- ”

“It’s okay, Killian,” she smiles at him. “You don’t have to say anything.” because she already knows it _is_ her.

He frowns, tries to apologize with his eyes.

“This ship’s been through a lot with you,” Emma blows past the uncomfortable moment. “There’s a lot to catch you up on.”

Killian looks relieved at her change of subject. “Why don’t we start with ‘pirate ship?’”

They spend the better part of the next two hours going around The Jolly Roger. It’s a little disorienting being the one telling the stories, trying to compress centuries of adventures he sailed with this ship (or what little of it he’s shared with her) in those couple of hours. He still knows more about the mechanism of the vessel, even teaching Emma a thing or two about the backbreaking work of maintaining something so massive.

They’ve had a similar conversation before, during one of the times Emma volunteered to help him. He had raised his eyebrow at her, _Are you sure about that, love?_ She thought she was, not realizing how she had underestimated the amount of work that was actually involved for something that wasn’t out in the water that often. She remembers the pride in his voice back then, the cocky pirate narrating his day-to-day activities. Killian now is certainly a little less audacious about it, a little less Hook with the way he speaks.

Emma’s shoulders slump slightly. In all honesty, she was secretly hoping showing him The Jolly Roger will shake something loose. He does care very much for it that it was worth a shot. It did not seem to work but Emma couldn’t bring herself to feel disappointed, not with that grin he’s been sporting since he learned he now owns it. She lets him explore by himself, satisfied with just watching him move around with a sense of familiarity, something she hasn’t seen for some time.

In the twisted part of her brain, she celebrates the fact that the entire time he’s been looking around, he wasn’t in any kind of pain. That his mind did not find the need to protect him from this. And that it only needs to do so from her. It’s a strange feeling of validation.

She looks up when Killian approaches her, still beaming. “This is incredible.”

“You’ve said that, yes.” Emma laughs.

He leans on the railing and looks out into the water. The wind whips at his hair as he takes a deep breath. Emma takes a similar position and they watch the sunset for a while.

“You’re important,” Killian says suddenly, eyes still on the horizon. “To me. I can feel it.”

Emma looks at his profile, notices how he clenches his jaw then swallows.

He turns to face her, meets her eyes. “When I asked you before, you said we were family. That’s not the truth is it? Not exactly.”

It’s Emma’s turn to look away. “Not exactly, no,” _Not yet_. She doesn’t need to explain further, he’s already put it together. Emma can feel his eyes on her and it compels her to say, “It’s getting late, are you okay to leave?”

Two seconds of stillness then Killian pushes of the railing, rubs his hand across it tenderly before nodding his head. “Thank you for this.”

“Of course.” she replies, rocking on her heels.

“Really. I…” he sighs. “I needed this.”

She fights the urge to hug him, offering him a soft smile instead. He gives one back, one that reaches his eyes, and with the sun setting behind him, Emma thinks he’s never looked more beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The age was made up :P
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Emma pulls her coat from the back of her chair, shrugs into it and grabs her keys from the desk.

“Let’s go, Killian’s alone at home.” Emma goads David to move faster, even getting his jacket from the rack and handing it to him. She taps her foot impatiently while David very deliberately struggles to put it on.

“What does he do there by himself anyw- ” David stops mid-sentence, making Emma look up at him.

“What?” she asks. David quirks his eyebrows in the direction of the station doors.

Emma turns around to see Killian standing there, looking a little out of place. Her stomach flips at how his eyes light up when he sees her. She walks over to him saying, “What are you doing here?” with surprised happiness in her voice.

“It was quite dull in that house by myself. I decided to walk around for a while,” he says, putting his arms behind his back. His eyes scan the room, lingers a little too long at the jail cells in the back. “So you work here?”

“That she does, and so do I.” David says, coming up to them.

“David.”

“Killian.”

Emma had tried her best to explain to Killian how everyone is related to each other, short of drawing a family tree. (The age difference - or lack thereof - being an aspect they blew past.) This led to him being excessively courteous toward David and Mary Margaret, something David was definitely delighted by.

Emma steps between them and addresses Killian. “We were just on our way out. I have to pick up Henry from their place,” she jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “You should come with us.”

“As you wish.” he replies, with a nod of his head.

The three of them leave the station together. David slides into his truck while Emma and Killian get in her bug. Killian stares out the window, watching the scenery go by. He took to driving (or sitting in a moving vehicle not driving, to be more precise) a lot faster this time around. It’s probably because he doesn’t remember that unfortunate incident by the town line all those years ago. Now driving around is one of his favorite things to do. Emma supposes it’s because it reminds him of traveling by sea, seeing the world move around him, with him. Sometimes she thinks he misses being out in the ocean for days.

“What did you see in town?” Emma asks, when the silence drags on for too long.

Killian turns to look at her. “Well, honestly, I had intended to look around, but my legs just brought me back to the docks,” he admits sheepishly, scratching behind his ear. “Then I tried to find your place of work. You have good people here, friendly and helpful. Even the one others call Grumpy.”

Emma tries not to focus on the fact that he sought her out. She chuckles to distract from the light blush that creeps up her neck and ears. But that flush quickly goes away when she realizes that he went to the docks first, and _then_ went to find her. An irrational pang of jealousy hits her in the gut, which makes her grip the wheel tighter.

“Should I not have done that?” Killian glances at her uncertainly, sitting up in his seat.

Emma has her eyes on the road but spares him a glimpse. She quashes the feeling of envy in her stomach. “No, no. I’m glad you came by. Really.” she offers him a smile.

Killian looks relieved, his tense shoulders relaxing. Emma half-expects a flirtatious comeback, but it never comes.

They arrive at her parents’ apartment a few minutes later. Emma parks her car in its usual spot just as David gets out of his vehicle.  They all make their way to the stairwell where David and Emma ascend the stairs casually, having gone up and down them a thousand times. Emma slows down when she notices Killian stroking the railing as he climbs up cautiously.

She goes down a couple of steps. “Everything okay?”

Killian snaps his head up at her, as if pulled from a daydream. “Yes, sorry.” he takes two steps at a time to catch up to her.

Emma feels a little bad at that. It seemed like he felt the place looked familiar and was trying to place it when she went and interrupted it. She decides against saying anything more and just walks into David and Mary Margaret’s place. He follows her in, closing the door behind him.

“Killian!” Mary Margaret greets him cheerfully. This time Killian is ready for the hug, opening his arms and loosely wrapping them around her when she does.

Emma looks away, finds her son instead. “Hey, kid," she tousles Henry’s hair playfully. “Get your stuff, we’re going home.”

“ _Mom._ ” Henry says irritably, brushing his hand through his hair.

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Mary Margaret asks. “There’s enough for everyone.”

“It’ll save you the trouble of cooking dinner yourself.” David adds.

Emma reconsiders. The only reason she was in a hurry was to get home to Killian. She turns to ask him if he was okay to stay, frowns when she doesn’t find him.

“Yeah, I guess that’s okay…” she mutters distractedly, looks up to the apartment’s upper level. She vaguely hears her mother’s yelp of _Excellent!_ as she spots the familiar dark figure over the second floor railing. Emma moves, keeping her eyes up. She climbs the stairs soundlessly and doesn’t speak this time.

Killian stands there quietly, just staring at the bed in front of him. Emma casts a look in the same direction, vivid memories replaying in her head.

She remembers the relief she felt when she found him, throwing herself at his embrace. It should have been the first time she admitted how she felt - she already knew at that moment. Looking down on him then, finding him alive, it was clear to her. But again, the right words were in her head, the wrong ones came out.

His eyebrows are drawn together, his hand absently opening and closing around nothing but air. He suddenly snaps out of it on his own, blinks several times before noticing Emma a few feet away.

He clears his throat. “Are we leaving?” he says, already walking toward her.

“If you want, we can stay for dinner,” Emma replies, making him pause. She looks at the bed again, then at him. “Why did you come up here?”

Killian hesitates, moves back half a step. “I’m not sure…” he looks down at his boots. “I just felt a pull,” he shakes his head. “That sounds absurd, I know.” he laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head again.

“Not really,” Emma smiles like she knows a secret. “Dinner here?”

“Sounds good to me.” Killian says, still not moving.

“It’s downstairs.”

“Right.” he walks past her a little too quickly and descends the stairs.

She throws a last glance at the bed, the last rays of sunlight dancing on and around it. With a soft sigh, she trudges down the stairs after him.

—-

Regina meets them at her driveway, waving as Emma slows down and parks the car. Killian steps out to let Henry out from the back seat. Henry barrels out and runs toward Regina to give her a tight hug. Regina wraps an arm around his shoulder, steering him inside the house. She beckons Emma and Killian with her head to follow.

“After you.” Killian says, motioning with his hand.

Emma puts her hands in her back pockets then walks up the path to the door, Killian right behind her. Henry’s stomps echo up the stairway while Emma follows the aroma of cinnamon straight to Regina’s kitchen.

“Henry’s not supposed to be playing video games for two weeks.” Emma announces as she walks through the threshold.

“And why is that?” Regina asks, pulling an apple pie out of the oven.

“Because he played video games,” Emma explains. “Instead of doing homework.” she clarifies when Regina raises an eyebrow.

“Ah,” Regina sets the pie on the table. “I’ll hide the PlayStation then.”

Emma notices it’s just the two of them in the room so she leans back to peer into the hallway, tries to see where Killian had gone.

“How’s _that_ going?” 

“Hmm?” Emma answers absent-mindedly, not seeing Killian from where she’s standing.

“Your pirate problem.”

Emma turns to glower at Regina. “It’s going.” she replies defensively.

“It’s tough to be the one doing the chasing isn’t it?” Regina teases. “Now you know what it was like for him.”

Emma huffs, takes a seat at the table and props her chin with her hand. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s kind of funny.” Regina sits across from her.

Emma buries her head in her arms, lets out a small groan.

“You just have to be as persistent as he was,” Regina points out. “You know, leave the realm you’ve lived in for centuries, follow him through a portal to the past, give up your most prized possession, that kind of stuff.”

Emma lifts her head to throw her another glare. “I already followed him into the Underworld, I think we’re even.”

“That’s what your problem is Emma, you keep score. Can’t it simply be about you doing something for him, not as repayment for something he did for you?” Regina keeps eye contact as she says that.

“This coming from someone who kept score with Snow White and damned an entire kingdom just to get even?”

“Yes, because look where that got me. Trust me, keeping a ledger is never a good idea.” Regina crosses her arms across her chest.

Emma sighs, leans back in her chair. “It’s really difficult,” she finally admits. “He’s a lot more...prudent. I don’t have a way in.”

Regina scoffs and rolls her eyes. “With him, you’ll always have a way in.” Her voice softens. “He doesn’t know how to keep you out, not even when he doesn’t remember you.”

Emma smiles weakly at her, grateful for her vote of confidence. “Speaking of which, where has he wandered off to?” she stands from her chair and paces back into the hallway. She finds him in the foyer, apparently not having taken more than three steps into the house.

“Beautiful flowers.” he gestures toward the arrangement of flowers on the table by the front door.

Emma’s heart squeezes in her chest at the sight of the arrangement of pink roses. She didn't even notice them when she came in. They’re not middlemist flowers but it’s enough to remind her of that field in Camelot where Killian helped her find herself again. That’s what she hopes to do for him now.

“They are, aren't they.” Regina says from beside her, startling her from her reverie.

Henry comes running down the stairs, almost tripping over his feet in haste. “Bye Mom, bye Killian.” he mumbles as he runs past them, his destination quite obvious.

Emma and Regina share a brief look. “I’ll let you deal with this - your turn to be the bad cop. I’ll pick him up on Tuesday,” Emma moves toward Killian. “We’ll show ourselves out.”

“Find the way in,” Regina says as a farewell, almost making Emma stumble. Regina follows their son into the living room. “I don’t think so, young man.”

“I’m grounded here too?” Emma hears Henry whine.

Emma and Killian go out the front door before the situation escalates, Emma yelling “Bye kid!” as they do. They jog back to the car and pull out of the driveway.

“Henry’s a lucky child.” Killian says later, on the ride back to their house.

“How’s that?” Emma asks, gives him a swift glance as she did.

“He has two mothers. Some people don’t even have the privilege of one.”

Emma swallows, not knowing what to say. Killian talks very little of his childhood, but she knows enough to understand the sadness in his voice. Emma lived with that kind of heartbreak for twenty-eight years. It’s a kind of pain they have both endured. And while Emma’s hurt has been healing for the last few years, Killian never really found closure. The one sitting beside her only remembers twenty-four of the hundreds of years and he already sounds broken.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to be such wretched company.” he adds when she doesn’t reply. 

Emma resists the urge to reach over and hold his hand. She shakes her head. “I rather like your company.”

Killian looks at her and manages a small smile. 

The rest of the ride is quiet, but not uncomfortable. Neither of them feel the need to fill the silence and Emma thinks that’s progress. When they get home, Emma leads the way to the front door while Killian, as usual, follows her.

She puts her coat on the rack and drops her keys on the table as she enters. “What do you want for dinner?” Emma asks, turning around to face him.

Killian hangs back, indecision evident on his face. He’s not looking at her, hasn’t even taken his jacket off.

Emma opens her mouth to ask him what’s wrong, but he lifts his head and looks straight at her. She can see he wants to say something so she gives him time to form the words.

“I…” Killian starts. He laughs nervously and scrubs a hand over his face. Then he takes a few steps toward Emma, stops within an arms’ length.

Emma watches as he reaches into his jacket, pulls out a single pink rose. Emma raises her eyebrows, waiting for him to move. She feels her breath catch, her heart beat faster, and her toes and fingertips tingle. But she waits.

“I’ll apologize to Regina tomorrow. I just had to steal one.” he says, rubbing his thumb against the stem.

“Why?” she whispers.

“It means something,” he pauses, staring at the flower in his hand as if it can remind him what exactly that meaning is. “It means something to you and me.” he lifts his arm, hands Emma the rose.

Emma takes it wordlessly with a shaking hand. She feels the prickle of tears behind her eyes but staves them off. She caresses the petals with her fingertips and inhales the familiar scent.

She beams at him. “Thank you.”

He grins back in response, his dimples visible through his scruff.

Emma doesn’t even need to find a way in, he’s giving her one. That night she stares at the flower on her nightstand until she falls asleep.

—-

Emma tells Mary Margaret about the night before. She tries not to blush as she does but the heat in her cheeks confirms she’s failed.

“That’s great, Emma!” her mother exclaims. “That means it’s working, he’s starting to have feelings for you.”

An embarrassed smile forms on Emma’s face. She leans forward in her seat, puts her weight on her arms on the table. “Do you really believe this will work? I can make Killian will fall in love with me again and True Love’s Kiss will break the spell?”

Mary Margaret puts a hand on her arm. “Of course, honey. What you two have? It’s powerful, it can’t be undone by a simple memory curse.”

 _It already was,_ Emma thinks. “But what if it doesn’t work? What if we can’t get them back?” _Can’t get him back?_

“You can’t think like that Emma. You have to have hope.”

“I also have to be realistic.” Emma argues, throwing Mary Margaret an impatient look.

Mary Margaret sighs, folds her hands together. “Okay, say it doesn’t work out the way we want to, would it be the worst thing? He’s alive, he’s here with you, is that so bad?”

“But that’s not enough for me.” Emma whispers. _Not anymore_. The last time she said that, she was in tears. It’s only through sheer willpower that she isn’t this time. She sinks back in her chair.

“Then do what you have to do to make sure it works,” Mary Margaret says softly. “If anything less is not enough, don’t settle for it.”

She looks at her mother and decides to heed her advice. Emma Swan will not settle.

—-

Emma takes one last look around, makes sure everything is perfect. She hears the keys in the lock before the door opens, announcing Killian’s arrival. She stands by the dining table, waits for him to enter the room.

Killian stops in his tracks, raises his eyebrows in surprise. “What’s this?” Emma can hear the quiver in his voice.

“I made dinner.” she replies, smiling.

He takes a few steps closer, looks at the candlelit dinner behind her. “I’m afraid I’m a little underdressed then.” he motions to Emma’s dark red lace dress and heels then looks down at his button down shirt, jeans and boots.

“You look stunning, Killian,” she tells him, not minding how the reference is lost on him.

Emma holds her breath, awaiting his reaction. He stands motionless for a few seconds then he moves, walking past her to the table and pulling a chair out for her. She exhales and goes to sit down.

“How did our first dinner go?” he asks, going around the table to take his seat.

Emma couldn’t help but feel joy at the fact that he’s posed that question. “It was wonderful. You planned the evening and it was perfect,” he smiles at that. “Someone almost crashed it but we didn’t let that ruin our night. You were such a gentleman, you even walked me home.”

Killian falls silent, drumming his fingers on the table.

“But tonight’s different,” Emma explains. “Tonight is about you and me, now.” Emma is not trying to recreate their first date - she’s attempted that before as The Dark One, it did not go well. This is about spending time with him, creating new memories for him. She will allow things to happen organically and not by force. She’s done enough meddling already.

Emma doesn’t always believe in destiny but she is fully convinced now that this will happen for them. They’ve been through too much for it not to. She just has to be patient, hopeful, like her mother said. Even if they have to do everything again.

“You still believe we can do this, don’t you?” Killian says with a light chuckle.

“Yes. I’ll never stop fighting for us.” she says simply.

It’s the first time they’re both acknowledging the idea of an _Us_. Neither of them has said it out loud until now.

Killian looks directly at her. “Then I don’t intend to let you down.”

Emma’s face softens as her heart swells in her chest.

The date did not end the same way the first one did but Emma doesn’t mind at all.

—-

“I’m going to get some groceries, our fridge is almost empty,” Emma announces, grabbing her keys off the counter top. “I’ll be home to make dinner.” she tells Henry before kissing the top of his head.

Killian pokes his head out from the kitchen. “May I come with you?”

Ever since their dinner date, Killian has gotten more relaxed around her, less apprehensive. Their conversations flow easier, with a lot less tiptoeing around each other. He’s more curious now and more open. The awkwardness is gone completely and that makes it easier for Emma to just _breathe_ when she’s around him.

She glances quickly at Henry. Her son rolls his eyes, mumbles, “I’ll be fine by myself, Mom. I’m not going to burn the house down.”

Emma presses her lips together, biting back a retort. She addresses Killian instead. “Yeah, sure. You ready to go?”

He takes his coat from the rack while Emma puts hers on.

“Take your time!” Henry calls as they leave. Emma swears she hears Killian laugh softly.

It’s an incredibly domestic thing to do, buying groceries together. This is not Emma’s first time shopping with Killian, but it is his - again. _Why do you people need all this bloody stuff?_ he had said the first time he stepped foot in a supermarket.

She finds it amusing that he has a similar reaction this time as well.

He stops at the entrance, eyes going a little wide at the size of the store. He cants his head, tries to find the last aisle from where he was standing.

“This place is massive.” he finally says, eyes still surveying the area.

Emma laughs at that. “This is a supermarket in a little town in Maine. This is tiny compared to the ones in the cities.” she grabs a cart from the line.

Killian raises his eyebrows. “How do you find what you need in such an enormous space?”

“It’s its own art form.” Emma answers. She’s not one to make lists, just goes through all the aisles, pulling down whatever she thinks she needs.

That’s why what is supposed to be a 30-minute errand turns into a two-hour undertaking. They spend fifteen minutes in the bottled water aisle alone. Emma finds herself fielding questions like _Why is there an entire shelf for water? How many kinds are there? What is distilled water? Then how is that different from purified?_ Emma can’t keep the smirk from her face because those were the exact same questions Killian threw at her the first time he was here. 

When they finally get home, Henry opens the door while they are still unloading what they’ve bought from the car. “Which store did you go to, the one in Boston?” he asks sarcastically, walking over to help them with the groceries.

“Sorry, kid. We got take out instead,” Emma lifts the bags of Chinese food they got on the way home. “Go wash up, dinner will be ready in a sec.”

Henry takes the rest of the bags and follows his mother into the house. He sets it down on the kitchen counter before heading to the bathroom. Killian is the last to come inside, two large paper bags in his arms.

“You do realize this one contains cookies. _Just_ cookies?” He says, putting it with the other bags.

“They were on sale.” Emma shrugs, as if that is all the explanation necessary.

“Just because it costs less doesn’t mean you have to purchase it. You only buy it if you need it,” Killian gets a glass from the cupboard, fills it with water from the tap. “Same reason you did not buy those bloody bottles of water. You don’t need it.” he motions to the glass in his hand.

“They were not on sale.” Emma sing-songs. She turns around to get their dinner ready, getting the food cartons out and on the table.

“You’re telling me if they were, you would have bought them too?”

“I would have bought six.”

Killian snickers. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it.” Emma replies automatically.

The sound of glass breaking is not what made Emma whip around, it’s Killian’s sharp gasp. He has his hand on his knee, his other arm is propped against the countertop. He looks like someone’s punched him in the gut, hard. He blinks furiously.

“What happened?” Emma moves toward him, careful to avoid the shards of glass on the floor.

He pants, bringing his hand to his head. “I don’t- ” he closes his eyes tightly then shakes his head.

Just then, Henry comes into the kitchen.

“Henry, can you help him please?” Emma asks, not wanting to touch Killian in fear of making it worse.

Henry steers Killian to one of the chairs and sits him down. “Are you okay?”

Killian tilts his head back, closes his eyes again and breathes deep. “I think I…” he trails off.

Emma keeps her distance, waits for him to finish what he’s trying to say, her heart pounding in her chest.

He opens his eyes, lowers his head to face them. “I thought I...remembered something.”

Emma moves closer. “Remembered what?” she whispers.

Killian looks at his hand. “I can’t- ” he presses his lips together. “It’s like trying to keep water in cupped hands. It just...trickles away.”

Emma lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“I'm sorry, Emma.”

She shakes her head. “It’s alright. I should be the one apologizing.”

He looks at her in question but she turns around to avoid it. The silence that follows is deafening.

Henry clears his throat. “I'll clean this up.” he gathers the broom from the closet to sweep up the pieces of broken glass.

She feels Killian get up from his seat and step toward her. He lingers for a while but moves to help Henry instead.

Emma doesn’t let the tears fall, just blinks them away like they were never there.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one! Thanks for reading until the end!
> 
> Enjoy!

Emma rubs the sleep from her eyes as she releases a jaw-cracking yawn. She fumbles for the light switch in the darkness then promptly squeezes her eyes shut at the sudden brightness of the kitchen. She blinks a few times to adjust to the light before dragging her feet to the cupboard to get a glass. She yawns again while filling it with water.

It’s become an unwelcome habit, waking up in the wee hours of the morning. She’s usually able to go back to sleep after a glass of water, the cool drink soothing enough to let her return to her slumber. She turns the lights off as she exits the room and that’s when she notices the porch light on the other side of the front door. She decides to check outside, full glass of water in tow.

Emma pulls the door open and finds Killian sitting on the steps. He turns his head at the sound, rises to his feet when he sees Emma.

“You’re up.” she says, not completely awake yet to string together more than two words.

“So are you.” he replies.

Emma stares at him, willing her brain to wake all the way up. “What are you doing out here?”

Killian points a finger upward. “It’s a clear night.”

Emma lifts her eyes to the sky, mouth opening as she lets out a small gasp.

The stars are sparkling, a stark contrast against the blackness of the evening. They look like they’re dancing, happy there isn’t a cloud in sight. It’s the most number of stars Emma has seen in one patch of sky. It’s probably because it’s the first time in a long time she’s even bothered to look at them. She sees more of them when she takes a few steps, joining Killian on the edge of the stairs.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” he snaps her out of her trance, gazing at the starry sky himself.

She angles her head to look at him, admires the way the corners of his lips turn up into a smile, how his lashes fan out over his cheeks every time he blinks, and the manner in which he brushes away the unkempt hair that has fallen over his eyes.

“Very.” she breathes.

Killian shifts his head toward her and Emma abruptly - and quite obviously - drops her eyes, gawks at the glass of water in her hands. She can feel the heat creep up her neck and she grips the glass tighter as if the coolness of it can keep the blush at bay. She’s grateful he doesn’t say anything but she can feel him  eyeing her carefully.

For lack of anything else to do, Emma takes a seat on the steps. Killian follows suit, sitting a couple of steps lower. He props himself up with his elbows and resumes his stargazing. Emma is torn between staring up at the glittering night, or in front of her at the dark mop of hair. She doesn’t look back up.

“Liam taught me how to navigate with the stars,” Killian says quietly, keeping his eyes on the sky. “We used to spend our nights as mere deckhands studying the different constellations. He was adamant I learn it - he was certain we would have our own ship to sail someday.”

Emma doesn’t dare say anything for fear of ruining the moment. This is something any version of Killian hasn’t shared with her yet and she feels a sense of wonder at discovering something new about him, something not from his adventures as the pirate Captain Hook.

“See that group of stars?” he raises his arm to point at what Emma knows to be The Big Dipper. “That’s The Plough. And that,” he moves his hand to the right, to the brightest star. “Is the North Star. It’s the one star in the night sky that doesn’t move and it will always help you find your way.”

_Like you_ Emma thinks, not even looking at where Killian is pointing anymore. She just stares at the back of his head, something throbbing in her chest.

He lowers his hand. “That star has saved my life countless of times.”

_Yes, you have._ Emma tucks her elbows in, suddenly feeling the cold night air around her. “I’m sorry.” she blurts out. She feels like she’s said that word in the last few weeks more than she’s ever had her entire life. And it still doesn’t seem enough.

Killian turns to face her, the question evident in his expression.

“For being selfish. I shouldn’t have done this to you, it was thoughtless.” she holds on to the glass so tight she thinks she might break it.

Killian’s face softens, nothing but kindness in his eyes. “Whatever you did, Emma, I already forgive you.”

She frowns at the fact that it’s not the first time he’s said those words to her.

“Whatever you’ve done, and whatever you could do. I could never resent you.”

A shiver went down Emma’s spine but not because of the chilly breeze. In fact, she feels warm, like his words are giving her the embrace she’s been craving. If his arms can’t wrap around her, she can at least find comfort in what he’s said.

Killian, of course, is unaware of that. “We’d best get inside. It’s going to get colder.” he suggests, standing up.

He holds his hand out. She reaches for it tentatively, her fingers hovering in midair. He wraps his hand around hers anyway and pulls her up, the steps between them evening their eye level. Forest green eyes meet ocean blue as Killian caresses Emma’s hand in his. She sees him stifle a wince so it’s Emma who lets go, immediately missing the heat of his palm. She turns around and walks the short distance to the door. Killian follows her inside then turns the porch light off.

“You should go back to bed, get whatever sleep you still can.” Emma tells him.

“You?”

“I’ll just put this away, I’m right behind you.” she motions to the glass in her hand.

He nods his head without further comment. She watches him climb up the stairs, returns the smile he gives her before he disappears into the upper floor.

Emma pads to the kitchen, takes another look at the night sky outside the window. She puts the glass in the sink, not having taken one sip from it at all.

—-

David and Mary Margaret come over for dinner a few nights later. Henry is staying with Regina so it’s just the four of them in the house.

“How are you doing?” Mary Margaret asks Emma, putting a hand on her back.

“I’m almost done with these potatoes. Can you check the roast in the oven?” she replies, scooping the potatoes into a serving dish.

“I mean,” Mary Margaret says while taking a peek through the oven door. “With the other thing.” she jerks her head in the direction of the living room where Killian and David are having a conversation.

“Oh,” Emma mutters, a little flustered. “We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

“That’s what you say when things are not fine and you don’t want people asking about it.”

“Exactly.”

Mary Margaret stands next to her daughter and elbows her lightly. “I know you’ve had a rough few weeks, Emma. You know your father and I are right here, if you need someone to talk to.”

Emma looks at her mother. “I know that,” she says, sincerity in her voice. “But I’m good. I have it under control. I promise.”

Killian enters the kitchen, David close behind him. “Is there anything we can assist you with in here, ladies?”

“Yeah, can you go ahead and set the table? Dinner’s almost ready.” Emma says over her shoulder.

Killian and David work on setting the table while Emma and Mary Margaret finish up in the kitchen. They settle in their seats once the food is ready.

The conversation during dinner is innocent enough, simple updates about Henry, Neal and their friends in town. Emma makes a note to herself to thank her mother later for not bringing up the Killian situation at all. And her father for actually engaging Killian in a discussion about the Royal Navy. The night turns out to be pretty uneventful, the most normal Emma has felt in a while.

Until her parents get ready to leave.

David puts his coat on, slips his hands in the pockets, searching for his keys. His eyebrows furrow as he he digs into the right pocket. “Is this yours?” he asks Mary Margaret, pulling a silver chain out.

Both Emma’s and Mary Margaret’s eyes go wide, Emma rushing over to David to take the necklace from him. She looks at him with urgency in her eyes, shakes her head a fraction to tell him to drop it.

“Where did you get that?” Killian whispers from behind her. _Too late_.

Emma closes her eyes and braces herself for the conversation they are about to have.

Mary Margaret tugs her husband out the door, mouths a quick apology to Emma before closing it behind them.

The room falls into an uneasy silence.

“That ring, where…” Killian asks again, eyeing the jewelry in her hand.

Emma sighs. “You gave it to me.” There’s no point in lying about it now.

Killian’s eyes snap up to hers. “I did?”

She nods, thinks fondly of that time in Camelot when he had asked her to bring _Emma_ home. If only she could ask him to bring _Killian_ back.

He looks stunned, his brows drawn together in confusion.

“I know what it means to you,” Emma stretches her arm out. “You can have it back.” she’s surprised her voice doesn’t break when she says that.

Killian lifts his hand to take it, but stops. He locks eyes with Emma, still not saying a word. He looks at her like he’s searching for something. He looks lost.

Then he shakes his head. “I gave it to you for a reason,” he says softly. “An important reason, I assume.”

Emma brings her hand to her chest. “Yes.” she breathes.

Emma stands frozen in her spot, can’t bring her feet to move. She once again fails to find the words to say to him.

Suddenly Killian surges forward, reducing the distance between them. Emma keeps her eyes on him, watchful for any sign of discomfort or pain. He stops right in front of her that she has to look up to meet his eyes. He reaches with his fingers but doesn’t make contact, just lets them hover over hers. He’s pushing it, trying to test the limits of his tolerance. He leans in closer, _too close_ , Emma thinks, but she doesn’t move away. He shifts his head, as if to brush his nose against her cheeks. She breathes him in, takes in that familiar scent, lets it settle deep in her bones.

His mouth is an inch from her ear, he _feels_ him whisper, “I wish I remember you.”

Emma inhales sharply, squeezing her eyes shut. She turns her head to face him as her body sways into his space against her better judgment. She revels in the heat radiating from him, not realizing how much she craves it until that moment. Emma’s fingers twitch, fighting against the urge to grab him by his shirt and kiss him.

Because she promised herself she wouldn’t do that. She swore she’d be patient, let Killian set the pace. Because this entire time, she was only thinking about what she wanted, what she needed. That’s how they got into this situation in the first place. This time will be different.

Emma feels him put his hand on her waist, rub his thumb against her hipbone. She licks her lips and sighs. “Killian…”

He pulls away abruptly, backing into the couch. He lifts his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Emma takes a few steps back, gives him room to breathe.

“That probably wasn’t the wisest thing to do.” Killian says with a soft chuckle, unfocused eyes finding Emma.

“No, it wasn’t.” Emma replies kindly. She waits for the dizzy spell to pass from three feet away. “You should get some rest, it’s already late.” she suggests, once color has returned to his cheeks.

“Aye,” Killian straightens his back and lifts his head. A few seconds of silence, then, “Good night, Emma.”

“Good night.” Emma watches him retreat upstairs to the bedroom. She puts the chain around her neck and strokes the ring with her fingers. Then she climbs the stairs, catches the soft click of Killian’s door closing when she reaches the landing. She pads to the other room quietly.

—-

They go about their dance as normally as they can. They keep from making physical contact, but can’t quite stay away from each other. It’s difficult at first, having him so close but not being able to touch him, kiss him. Eventually though, they settle into a groove, moving around each other almost effortlessly - like they’ve been doing it for years. Even her parents and Regina have stopped checking up on her, perhaps no longer finding the need to do so.

As Emma lay in bed, she can’t help but wonder if everyone else thinks this is how it’s going to be. If she’s the only person in the world who still believes they can put things back the way they were, that she can hold his hand without fear of hurting him. She looks to her side and stares out the window. It’s one of those nights when sleep doesn’t come easily. Having Henry next to her might have helped but he’s spending the night at a friend’s house. She closes her eyes and tries to sleep anyway.

Then someone knocks on the door.

“Are you awake?” she hears Killian ask from the other side.

Emma sits up, hesitates before answering, “Yeah, I’m up.”

“Can I come in?”

Emma gets up from the bed and opens the door. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I…” Killian shifts on his bare feet nervously, scratching behind his ear. “Forgive me, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He turns on his heels to go back to his room.

“Killian,” Emma stops him. “You wanted to come in?” She opens the door wider, beckons him inside.

He looks at her uncertainly but she steps aside to let him in. He walks into her room before Emma shuts the door behind him.

“Did I wake you?” he still looks apologetic.

Emma shakes her head. “No, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Neither could I.” he shuffles his feet on the carpet.

“Did you want to talk?” she asks, keeping her voice soft.

Killian doesn’t answer. Emma can see he’s struggling with what he’s thinking, feeling.

“You want to lie down for a while?” she motions to her bed. “I’ll stay with you.”

Killian looks at her for a long time before nodding his head and moving to the bed. He rests on his back, his hand on his stomach. Emma joins him on the other side, her hair strewn all over the pillow. They lie within a foot from each other but to Emma, it still feels like they’re miles apart. They both stare at the ceiling, watching the moonlight cast long shadows that slide over to the walls. Emma thinks she can sleep like that though, just having Killian next to her.

“Do you miss him?” he suddenly asks out loud.

Emma turns her head toward him, caught off guard by the question. “Miss him?”

“That person you knew,” he says, still looking at the ceiling. “Who I was before - or will be - it’s still a little confusing.”

Emma moves her entire body on its side to face him. “You’re right here.”

Killian chuckles low, angles his head to look at her. “You did not answer the question.”

Emma thinks it over for a while. She _did_ miss him. When all this started, there was a void in her heart that ached every time she looked at Killian but didn’t see _her_ Killian. Time has passed since then though and she’s spent every second of it with the Killian that’s in her bed now. Does she still miss who he used to be? 

Answering that question is like deciding whether or not she’s satisfied with the way things are now. It’s like making peace with the possibility that even if he kisses her, the years they’ve had might be lost to him forever. _We’ve already had more time than we were ever meant to._

She has her answer when she looks into his eyes. Because regardless of the time they’ve had together, the time they will still have with each other, and the intimacy that’s grown between them, he will never look at her the way he used to - the way she wants him to. “Yes, I do.”

He moves on his side too so they’re face to face. “I’m sorry I’ve taken him from you.”

“You didn’t,” Emma replies quickly, puts her hand in the middle of the bed. “None of this is your fault. I don’t want you thinking that.”

Killian reaches his hand out as well, places it right next to Emma’s that their fingers almost touch. “Then I’m sorry I can’t bring him back. I don’t take pleasure in hurting you.”

Emma’s chest tightens at that. How can he think he’s the one hurting her when _she_ triggers his headaches? When _she_ took away his memories? When _she_ was too afraid to talk to him like this, felt helpless enough to do something reckless?

“Look at me,” she says when Killian doesn’t meet her eyes. He slowly lifts them up, locks them with Emma’s. Even in the darkness of the room, they look impossibly blue. “You’re doing no such thing. You’re the one keeping me together right now. If you weren’t here, I probably would have lost my mind weeks ago.”

He smiles weakly, not entirely convinced.

They listen to each other breathe for a while. Emma notices how Killian also uses her steady breathing, the rise and fall of her chest, to lull him to sleep. She watches Killian’s eyelids flutter closed. She gazes at him while he sleeps, belatedly realizing that the last time she did, he still had three hundred years of memories.

“I love you.” she whispers. _I’m usually the one who has to say that first_ he had said once. Now she’s waiting for him to say it back.

They fall asleep like that, facing each other, their hands mere inches apart on the bed. It’s the most peaceful slumber Emma has had in days.

—-

Today is not a good day.

It’s not the worst one either, not by their standards, but still, not so great. Emma got a call at ten in the morning that one of the dwarfs had gone missing in the forest. They had sort of become the unofficial alarm system of the town since they always seem to run into the new villain before anyone else did. So she and David spent the next three hours hiking around in the woods looking for him to no avail. Just when she was about to suggest they take a quick break, she got another call that they found him asleep in one of the carts in the mines.

Hungry and pissed, they drove back into town only to get a flat tire on the way. Emma had wanted to just use magic to fix the truck but David was insistent on doing it himself. He’s against using magic on mundane tasks, said she has to learn the value of hard work and not get by on taking shortcuts. Emma felt he wasn’t just talking about the blown tire but she was too exhausted to engage him in such a discussion. By the time they got back to the station, the whole day had come and gone, her last meal being from this morning’s breakfast. She had wanted to see Henry off before he goes to Regina’s for the weekend but she’s missed that too.

So really, not a good day at all.

Emma comes home to singing coming from the TV. She doesn’t announce her arrival, doesn’t take her coat off, just drags her feet into the house and makes a beeline for the fridge. She grabs a piece from last night’s pizza and shoves it in her mouth, not even bothering to heat it up. That’s when she hears the song in the background.

_Zero to Hero just like that!_

Emma swallows whatever is in her mouth and drops the rest of the slice on the kitchen island. She walks into the living room slowly, the music getting louder in her ears. She finds Killian on the couch, clearly amused by the movie on the screen.

“What are you watching?” Emma asks, something angry building up in the pit of her stomach.

Killian turns his head from where he’s sitting. “Emma, I didn’t hear you come in,” he stands and goes around the couch. “Henry was watching a movie about a man in an iron suit before Regina picked him up. Then this came on. Something about Greek mythology, I believe. They’re singing songs about it, it’s quite hilarious.” He laughs.

“Turn it off.” Emma says, voice low.

Killian’s eyebrows furrow before he takes a few steps toward Emma. “Is something the matter?”

_“Turn it off.”_ Emma repeats then stomps back into the kitchen.

Killian turns the television off, follows Emma into the next room. “Do you have something against Hercules?” he says, attempting a joke to relieve the tension in the air.

Emma doesn’t answer, just picks up her discarded pizza and none too gently throws it in the trash. She can feel Killian’s eyes following her around the kitchen.

“Clearly you’re in a foul mood today.” his voice is more serious now.

_“Clearly.”_ Emma replies, sarcasm dripping from that single word.

“It’s just a movie.”

Her entire day’s frustration snaps in that moment. “It’s not _just_ a movie.” she retorts, her voice a little louder than she intended.

Killian raises his arms in mock surrender. Emma didn’t mean to let her anger out on him, he just happened to be there when it did. And he just had to be watching freaking _Hercules_ of all things. She knows he doesn’t understand why it infuriates her so much - it hardly makes sense to her, why an animated film would stir up this kind of emotion in her - but it doesn’t stop her from being just that, infuriated.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks softly, tentatively approaching her like she’s a wild animal.

Emma huffs, walks to the other side of the room and crosses her arms. _Yes_ , she thinks. “No.” she says.

A look of hurt flickers across his face, but only for a second. He makes a fist at his side, very visibly clenches his jaw. “Alright, you want to be alone. I’ll go to the docks.” he moves to leave.

The words are already tumbling out of Emma’s mouth before she even registers what they are. “Fine, go see your mistress.”

Killian freezes then very slowly turns back around, glares at her. _“What?”_

She uncrosses her arms. She should apologize, really. It’s been a horrible day, she hasn’t eaten and she’s very, very tired. And now is absolutely not the time to reference their inside jokes. But her mouth has a mind of its own now. “If you’d rather be there than here,” _with me,_ “That’s fine.”

Killian has a look on his face, one of deep deliberation. Emma can see his shoulders shaking, like hers would when she’s mad. To think this all started because a cartoon was playing on the television. She mentally prepares herself for the fight that is going to happen in the next few seconds. She opens her mouth to get the first word in.

But something else happens.

In three strides, Killian closes the gap between them and takes Emma’s face in his hand. She swallows whatever she’s planning to say and wraps her fingers tightly around his wrist, fully intent on prying it away from her. _“What are you doing?_ ” she whispers angrily.

She only has a second to register the distressed _“Emma”_ he mutters before he pulls her in and crashes their lips together.

Emma feels it happen. She feels the energy radiate outward from their kiss, a strong breeze whipping at her hair. She senses the magic travel from her mouth to her fingertips, all the way down to her toes. It almost knocks her back if not for Killian’s lips on hers and his hand on her jaw.

Killian gasps against her mouth. He doesn’t draw back, instead moves his hand behind her neck and wraps his other arm around her waist to bring her closer.

A weight lifts from Emma’s shoulders, weeks of careful restraint fracturing, and in that moment, she breaks. She closes her fists around Killian’s shirt and yanks him down, lifting herself on her toes to meet him. A moan escapes her throat as she wraps her arms around his neck, his tongue finally licking its way inside her mouth. She feels a tear slide down her cheek and get lost in their kiss.

They part for air, keeping their foreheads together. “Swan, you idiot,” Killian says, breathless. “You bloody idiot.”

She sobs at the sound of her name on his lips. “I know,” she kisses him again. “I know.” She pulls back to look directly at him, craves for a glimpse of recognition in those blue, blue eyes. It squeezes the air out of lungs when he looks back at her, all those years swimming around in there. It’s as if everything flashes before them, the beanstalk, Neverland, New York, Camelot… The Underworld.

And she’s never been so happy to see it.

Emma feels a fresh wave of tears prickle behind her eyes. She tries to touch him everywhere at once, his face, his hair, his chest. Like she’s taking back all the time she’s lost _right now_. She brings their mouths together again, presses her body against him. They fight for control of the kiss, neither one backing down. Emma moves them, only stops when Killian’s back hits the wall. She runs her tongue across his bottom lip, nips at it gently. She reacquaints herself with how he smells, what he feels like beneath her fingers, how he tastes, what he sounds like when she flicks her tongue in his mouth, makes him chase it into hers.

Killian slips his hook through one of Emma’s belt loops and tugs her toward him. His hand cradles the back of her head perfectly like it belongs there. Emma cups his face with both hands, thumbs rubbing against the scruff on his jaw. She angles his head slightly to deepen the kiss, Killian moaning in agreement. His hand travels downward, past her shoulders, along her back, his fingers tracing her spine. He keeps his hand at the small of her back as she clings to him desperately, too afraid to let go. Emma kisses his nose, his cheek, the skin below his ear. She lets her hands settle on his chest, right above his heart.

“I’m sorry.” she says.

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know, love,” he smiles. “I remember.”

The End.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this work and for all the comments and kudos :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!


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